


The Logic of Alcohol

by Mysterious_Loser



Category: Yondemasu yo Azazel-san/よんでますよ アザゼルさん (Anime)
Genre: Alcohol, F/M, Suggestive Themes, bad language, cartoon violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-24
Updated: 2018-01-24
Packaged: 2019-03-08 12:44:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13458537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mysterious_Loser/pseuds/Mysterious_Loser
Summary: One mixer had been bad enough, but Yumi is insistent on scheduling another. Sakuma can't talk her way out of going, and all that she can do is pray for a better evening. But when the presence of an uninvited guest threatens to disrupt that prayer, Sakuma finds that there is only one friend she can turn to: alcohol. (AkuSaku)





	The Logic of Alcohol

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Yondemasu Yo, Azazel-San, their characters, or the Akutabe Detective Agency. However, Kei, Seiichi, Jiro, their band, “Delirious,” and The Little Dipper all belong to me.
> 
> This was something I meant to put up long ago as a tribute to this fantastic series. Unfortunately, the fandom has long since died, partially due to the discontinuation of the anime series. It seems that any further Yondemasu Yo productivity is being done through web radio (besides the continuing manga, of course), as can be seen on Yondemasu Yo, Azazel-San G. I hope that this changes in the future, but we'll see.
> 
> Anyway, I'll be surprised if anyone actually reads this, but for those who do, I just wanted to say: here's my weird, first attempt (probably the last, but we'll see) at a Yondemasu fic. I got the idea after reading the 10th volume and was blown away by the story arc. I tried to keep drunk Sakuma and scumbag Akutabe in character as much as possible and I hope I succeeded. I also included Yumi and Maki. It's quite possible that my interpretation of them is off—I'm not a perfect translator, but I do all right—but my reaction toward them was a little suspicious after seeing the whole incident with Nanishikori. If you have no idea as to what I'm talking about, that's fine, but if you do and disagree with me, feel free to let me know. You'll see similarities from that arc in this one, and even an Easter Egg line toward the end. Anywho, their part in that story arc is the main reason I wrote them the way I did in this one-shot.
> 
> Also, I really thought about chopping this story into chapters, but since the odds of it being read aren't that great, and because I wanted to offer a massive tribute to this section, I kept it at its 18,000+ words/28 pages. I hope it pleases you, Dear Reader. No, really. I worked friggin' hard on it. I hope I did okay. Read it over an afternoon or evening tea, lol.
> 
> The story takes place after the mixer incident in Yondemasu Yo, Azazel-san Z, episode 5/chapter 43-44, so be sure to have watched/read at least to there. And, of course, there's swearing and lewd talk, as per the principle of Yondemasu Yo.
> 
> Enjoy!

**\/\/\/**

 

**The Logic of Alcohol**

 

**\/\/\/**

 

            Sakuma spun a lock of her hair around her finger and lifted her eyes to the swirling ceiling fan in the detective agency. She propped her cell phone in the crook of her neck and leaned down to swat the back of Azazel's head, who was snooping through her logs on the work computer. There was one log in particular that she didn't want anyone seeing, especially her boss, since alcohol had been involved.

            She bit down on her lip before speaking into the phone, “No, I really can't.”

            “ _Why are you always like this, Sakuma-san?”_ Yumi's sigh was heavy, as though she were blowing directly into the receiver. Sakuma turned her head away the moment after impact, but it still left her ear ringing. “ _You never want to come out and have any fun with us.”_

            Azazel whined and Sakuma kicked the rolling chair with him in it away. It sailed on until it hit the wall and toppled, crushing the demon under it. He screamed and flailed his tiny arms under the weight of the chair.

            “Remember what happened the last time we tried doing a mixer?” Sakuma said and pivoted on her heel. “The night ended with Maki-chan being care-flighted to the hospital. It wasn't an experience to remember.”

            “ _And whose fault do you think that was?”_ Sakuma didn't care much for Yumi's tone. The girl could be sweet, but there was a spiteful side lurking close behind. Still, Sakuma tried not to pay it much mind, even as Yumi added, “ _Everything would have been fine if you hadn't brought that bitch along.”_

            “I highly doubt that Megumi-san was responsible for Maki's accident,” Sakuma squeezed through her lips and hoped Yumi wouldn't sense it.

            “ _Even so, a lot of weird things happened when she came around. Maybe she's just bad luck. I mean, even Yarimura-kun and Hameoka-kun both told me she was a wacko. Do you only know wacko people, Sakuma-san? That's why you need a_ _ **real**_ _boyfriend.”_

            Sakuma held her tongue down in her mouth to keep from retorting anything she would regret. Her mind jumped from one remark to the next. There were too many bad things about the mixer to say that she ever wanted to try another one. Because of Megumi, Yuu, Yumi's now ex-boyfriend, was caught with another woman, Maki almost died, and an angel became entangled into the mix.

            After a moment of quiet deliberation, Sakuma settled on, “Mixers don't bring about any good men, Yumi-chan.”

            “ _That's a challenge if ever I heard one. There's someone I'm interested in from my other job and he's got some really cute friends that I know would just be your type, Sakuma-san.”_

            Sakuma chuckled. She wondered if Yumi even knew what her type of guys were. Probably not, since Sakuma never hung around any. “That depends on which job you're talking about.”

            “ _Fu-Kus, the one closest to the university. I thought I told you that before.”_

            Sakuma couldn't recall Yumi telling her that she worked at a convenience store. 

            “ _Anyway,”_ Yumi went on, “ _he's closing there tonight, so I'll text him and set up something at The Little Dipper. You know, that pub with the constellations cut into the ceiling and walls?”_

            Sakuma did not know about The Little Dipper, the pub with the constellations cut into the ceiling and walls. She would have to research it on her GPS. She sighed and shuffled into the agency kitchen.

            “Yumi-chan, it's just really not my thing. I'm not ready for anything serious, anyway.”

            “ _Sakuma-san.”_ The lighthearted conversation disappeared. The spiteful Yumi had emerged, and a sickening feeling made Sakuma realize that the mixer wasn't about friends meeting new boys, but about someone being a wing-woman for Yumi while she wooed some young man from work. “ _Because of that weird chick you brought, the last mixer I set up was ruined. Don't you think you owe me some kind of apology?”_

            Sakuma turned up her lip and stared into the sink of dirty dishes. Most of them belonged to Azazel, and she felt an inner fury birthing itself from Yumi bullying her into going to a mixer. Sakuma would take it out on the lust demon once she got off the phone.

            “I…” She sighed. “Yeah, you're right.”

            “ _Good. Then I'll text him and Maki-chan and set up the mixer for tonight. Six work for you?”_

            Sakuma shifted her eyes to the crumbs on the counter, the empty curry bun wrapper on top of the microwave, and the chocolate smear down the refrigerator.

            “Actually, I have to work until seven tonight,” she said and looked away from the mess.

            “ _Ask your boss to let you go early. I mean, you're always staying late anyway, so your boss should understand.”_

            Sakuma tried not to laugh. Yumi certainly did not know Akutabe.

            “I'll try.”

            “ _Don't try,_ _ **do**_ _it. I'll see you at six tonight.”_

            Yumi hung up and Sakuma was left staring at the Mossan wallpaper on her phone. It was almost four o'clock. Even if she took the bus now, there would be little time to get ready and leave from her place to The Little Dipper, wherever that was. Yumi knew this, surely, but this mystery coworker—whoever he was—had enraptured her heart and occupied any and all future priorities. Sakuma only hoped that this mixer would make up for Megumi's shenanigans.

            “Saku, you got big plans tonight? Saku?”

            Sakuma looked to the doorway. Azazel's form hung in the frame, his tiny wings flapping in the air. One side of his face sank into itself from where the chair had fallen on it. She snorted and pointed to the dirty sink.

            “Put your dishes in the dishwasher, Azazel-san. I'm not your mother.”

            Determined to keep her angry face on, she huffed past the demon and stood in the center of the front room. Her eyes pinballed to the window, just below the agency's logo, where Akutabe's name fell into the word “detective.” The white ball of the sun lingered in the sky across from her, and appeared duller this time of day. Of course, it could be the tinted windows Akutabe had insisted on having. Ever since the incident with the angel and Beelzebub's Grimoire, he seemed more paranoid than cautious. 

            “That last mixer was quite a shit-show.” Azazel floated out after her. He seated himself on one of their black, leather couches. Sakuma glanced back into the kitchen. The dirty dishes remained in the sink. “Why would you want to do another one?”

            Her teeth ground together. She marched over to Akutabe's empty desk and peered down at a manila folder settled nicely on top. He was out meeting a client, but didn't say how late he'd be gone. Normally, a black agenda book lived on top of that manila folder, but he must've taken it with him. Sakuma had no choice but to wait until he returned to inform him that she would be leaving early.

            “Yumi-chan wants to try another mixer since she didn't get to go to the last one,” Sakuma said, choosing her words as carefully as possible.

            “But you said it yourself that there aren't any good men at mixers,” he said, his lips parting into a grin that exposed two rows of white, sharp teeth. 

            Sakuma felt her eye twitch and she struggled to resist the urge to punch him in the face.

            “I'm not going for the men.” She looked away from the desk and stared at the front door. “I'm going because my friends are going. Maki-chan and Yumi-chan go for the men.”

            Azazel laughed. “That's good, Saku, cuz if you were looking for a cock to suck, I could show you a thousand better places than The Little Dipper.”

            She flinched. So he had heard. And after she tried so hard to keep that part of the conversation quiet. What else had he heard? Yumi could talk loud when she wanted, but Sakuma hadn't realized the girl could be heard from across the room. Without thinking, she seized the manila envelope from Akutabe's desk and sent it spinning from her hand. She found herself impressed by how much like a saw the envelope could be, separating the demon's head from his body as easily as a filleted fish. He gurgled and blood geysered up and over the back of the couch.

            Sakuma snarled and looked for something else to throw. The intent to kill was strong enough to distract her from the opening door and her stolid-looking boss walking in. Just as she found that day's newspaper and rolled it in her hand, Akutabe moved around the couches and stared at the remains of the lust demon, blood, head, and all.

            The newspaper uncurled in her open hand and she dropped it to the floor.

            “Ah, Akutabe-san,” she drew the name out, fighting for an opener that would get her excused for the day. “I wasn't sure when you'd be back.”

            Not quite the opener she had hoped for.

            He seated himself at his desk, and placed the black agenda book where the manila envelope used to be. “It's going to be a late night,” he said without looking up at her. “The client has some clout here in Tokyo. He's asked that this case be resolved as quickly as possible.”

            A weight sank down on Sakuma's chest and made a face she was glad he couldn't see. On one hand, she wanted to find a way to get out of having to go to the mixer, but, on the other, pulling a late shift at work for some rich client didn't seem like fun, either. It wasn't as though Sakuma got to keep most of the money from the cases she worked on, anyway, because of her debt to Akutabe, and she found herself poorer these days than when she had first started.

            Between the two things she didn't want to do, she found she dreaded the late-shift more.

            “Actually…” she tugged on her sleeve with one hand. “I wanted to leave a little early tonight. I have some studying for an upcoming test I need to do and my friends are having a study session, and—”

            “Oh, is that so?” Akutabe's attention fell to the inside of some nameless book in his hand. It appeared case unrelated. “Well, I don't want to get in the way of your schooling. If you need to leave early, I'll allow it.”

            Sakuma stood still, unsure of how to take his words. She couldn't tell if he was being sincere or if some mischievous plot was brewing under that cold, hard stare. He never talked about her university, how she was doing, or asked if she needed some downtime to study. She figured she would use that to her advantage and, of course, what he didn't know wouldn't kill him.

            She beamed and bowed several times. “Ah, thank you, Akutabe-san. I really appreciate it. I'll be back first thing in the morning.” Sakuma reached for her bag and turned to leave, the doorknob only inches from her fingers.

            “I don't know how you're going to get any studying done at a mixer, Saku,” Azazel chirped from behind the couch.

            Her fingers cramped up against the doorknob and she held herself there. Heat hit her face and she squeezed her eyes shut.

            _God_ _ **damn**_ _it, Azazel-san._

            He was the worst kind of demon, and here she was, only a few seconds away from freedom and a clean getaway.

            Sakuma knew that she shouldn't, having been caught in the worst kind of lie, but she slowly turned her head until the bare outline of Akutabe's form appeared in her line of sight. She could feel his eyes burning into the back of her skull, and wouldn't be surprised if he was silently chanting a curse to put on her. Somehow, she doubted that he wasn't beyond that level of mastery.

            “What?” Akutabe asked, though it didn't seem to be a question, there being an inflection in the articulated word. It seemed to be one of surprise, and possible disappointment from…shock? Betrayal? She didn't know which.

            “Oh, yeah,” Azazel went on, clearly unaware of the deep, boiling water of a situation that he was tap-dancing into. He trotted out from behind the couch, picking his nose, and stared up at his employer. Sakuma bet he was feeling real good about himself right then. It wouldn't be long lasting. “She's still lusting for a cock to suck on every night, so her friend rescheduled a mixer that your blubbering fish fucked up last time. Saku's taking the heat for it, so she basically _has_ to go and find a guy to pop that virgin cherry of hers.”

            Sakuma's purse crashed down on the demon's head, lifted, and swung down again, and again. She couldn't stop her screaming, but beating the demon to a bloody mess of pulp and organs seemed to help assuage her agitation.

            Until Akutabe spoke.

            “Sakuma-san.” The purse stopped in mid-air, blood and organ pieces stuck to the bottom of the fabric. She could not even bear to look at him. “I don't mind allowing you to leave early to study for a school exam, but a mixer is no excuse.” She heard the wheels on his chair roll as he shifted his weight. “I also don't appreciate being lied to.”

            His last comment prompted another purse strike to Azazel's remains. He gurgled and blood spurted up from what was left of his mouth and eye sockets. A large piece of intestine clung to the bottom of the purse.

            “Sorry,” she mumbled and fidgeted with her glasses. “But I already promised to be there. Besides, I stayed late the past three nights.”

            His tone hardened. “You're not going to pay off your debt with cases that only break even, you know. This is a big opportunity to make a dent in that.”

            Sakuma pressed her lips together and looked to her boss. He stood behind his desk, one hand placed on top of his closed book, while the other stuffed itself into his pants pocket. He wore agitation well, as he was often agitated, but his eyes pierced her with a kind of agitation reserved only for the times when he knew she wouldn't be easily swayed. At least, she thought so.

            She sighed. “If I'm just going to give all of my money from every case to you, then I can afford to go out and have some fun once in a while.” She shook her purse until the intestine dropped to the ground. “I'm leaving early and I'll come in early tomorrow, okay?”

            “Ridiculous,” he said and stared down at his book. “Is that something all girls consider to be 'fun?'”

            Sakuma turned her head upon feeling her cheeks bud crimson again. In truth, a mixer was the last place she wanted to be, but she couldn't stand her boss—a _man,_ of all people, questioning what should be fun for girls. Even if it wasn't meant to be taken personally, she couldn't stop the fire from burning inside of her, and, before she knew it, she stomped to the desk and sat the blood soaked purse on Akutabe's nice, lacquer finish.

            “For your information, in case your eyes don't work, I _happen_ to be one of those girls that you speak of and a mixer is just an innocent way of going out and meeting new people.”

            Akutabe chuckled and his face relaxed. “Innocent, you say? Maybe you're the one who needs to have their eyes checked.”

            Sakuma's cheeks puffed and she seized the ends of his desk and leaned forward. “Either way, I have the right to go out and meet guys just like other girls. I don't know about you, but I don't want to spend all of my nights locked up in the agency until I'm old and wrinkly, thinking only about work.” She grabbed her bag and pivoted on her heel. “I'll see you in the morning.”

            Sakuma threw herself out the door and down the stairs before her boss could berate her further. He'd be pissed she didn't stay late for a few hours, but, by morning, he'd be back to his usual grumpy self. And there was always Azazel-san to take the beating until Akutabe's venting period was over.

            But Sakuma had a mixer to get to, and she promised herself to make it a good night, if only to spite Akutabe.

 

\/\/\/

 

            Sakuma spotted Maki and Yumi waiting on the sidewalk within a sea of people, but didn't see any sign of the boys. The Little Dipper sat by itself with space in between its neighboring buildings. Its unique design mirrored that of an observatory, with a long telescope protruding from the top. Sakuma wondered if it worked. Stars and moons were painted along the side of the building, as well as murals of famous astrologists. Their features were a little too strong, with ones like Galileo drawn bare chested in a loincloth, a six-pack highlighted down his torso. Sakuma was almost certain that these were not accurate representations.

            Maki's pink blouse was a size too tight, accenting her back fat, stomach, and voluptuous breasts in its low cut. A pretty bow was sewn onto the front, which made the shirt more tolerable. Her chestnut hair was pulled back into a ponytail that looped through a zircon embroidered hair tie. Two barrettes hung on each side of her head. Her hips swayed in a form-fitting black skirt, and Sakuma wished that she could walk as gracefully in six-inch, pointed stilettos as Maki could. The last time Sakuma had tried, the heel snapped and she twisted her ankle. She didn't mind sticking to her round toe pumps.

            Yumi's attire wasn't as conservative as Maki's, but Yumi had the curves and form to pull off a baby blue one-piece dress. The cut was deeper and exposed her well-shaped breasts and dipped down to her navel. She left her hair down, but a fake, blue flower glued onto a headband crowned her head. Sakuma knew that Yumi liked wearing her pump boots in times like these, and black was her color of choice.

            Sakuma glanced down at her attire and felt her lips push together. No clothes ever seemed to look as good on her as they did on her friends. A part of Sakuma wished she could pull off even a fraction of their style, even if it was just a dress or styling her own hair. She felt sheepish to be shown in a white blouse with a pink vest. She had never been ashamed of her breasts until she began working at the agency—thanks to Azazel and the other demons' constant harassment—and would give anything if they were just even a cup or half a cup bigger. It had only started a few months ago, but Sakuma found herself weeding out the clothes in her wardrobe, switching up hoodies for short coats, and putting her hair up to make herself appear more professional. She needed a trim, maybe a makeover, but she wouldn't tell anyone else that. She fantasized about wearing dresses and had seen some cute ones in stores that she wanted to buy, but she had no one to model them for, and wearing them at the agency would give Azazel another way to harass her. 

            She liked her white blouse, but the vest didn't feel quite right. The pants Sakuma wanted to wear for the mixer hadn't dried in time, so she chose blue shorts and black tights with tan loafers. She pulled her hair to the side with a pink scrunchie, and didn't have any time left for makeup or lip gloss. She had a little under an hour to shower, get dressed, and leave when she first walked through the door of her apartment. Even now, as she checked her phone, she was ten minutes after six.

            “Sakuma-san!” Maki waved and bounded down the street as perfect as she could in her six-inch high stilettos. “I'm glad you could make it.”

            Sakuma hugged the girl and pulled back to observe her. “You look beautiful, Maki-chan.” Her eyes darted to Yumi, who was staring. “And so do you, Yumi-chan.”

            Yumi's smile appeared, soft and almost ethereal beneath her lip gloss. “Thank you, Sakuma-san, you do, too. The boys will be here shortly, but it's getting a little chilly, so we should wait inside. Again, I made the reservation for three and three.”

            Sakuma stepped closer into the circle and slyly asked, “So, who is this mystery man of yours, Yumi-chan?”

            A tiny flush appeared on the girl's face, but it was drowned out over the glow of her pride as she boasted, “His name is Kei Murasaki. He's super cute and has this silver ear cuff he always wears right here.” She pointed to her right ear. “He's mine, so no flirting with him, okay?” Yumi's eyes fell on Maki at that remark, and the girl whined.

            Maki pointed a finger at Yumi. Sakuma noticed that two rings and a jewel-embroidered fingernail dazzled it. “Okay, but there had better be some cute guys here or I'm going to be pissed, Yumi-chan. You can't bring your crush to a mixer and tell us not to flirt. That's like bringing a thirsty horse to water and telling him not to drink.”

            Sakuma giggled. “Don't worry, Maki-chan, you can have my share, too.”

            Yumi frowned. “You can't say that until you've met the guys, Sakuma-san. Remember, that's why we're trying this mixer again.” She held up her phone and continued, “Kei-kun's almost here, and he's riding with Seiichi-san, one of the other guys joining us. Their third friend, Jiro-san, is coming straight from work, so he's gonna be a little late.”

            “Work?” Maki blinked. “What, is he across town, or something? He should've gotten off early like Sakuma-san and met us down here.”

            “That almost didn't happen, either,” Sakuma mumbled and tightened her grip on her purse. It was a pink-polka dotted one she had bought down at the shopping arcade last month. The other ended up too badly stained with remnants of Azazel. “My boss was pretty upset that I didn't stay late.”

            “Oh well.” Maki flicked her wrist. “Too bad for him. Maybe his friends need to set a mixer up for him, too. That'll calm him down. He's single, right? I thought you said he was single.”

            Sakuma bit the inside of her mouth.

            _As if he had any friends._

            It wasn't as though she knew. She didn't know much about her boss and his personal life. He never offered any information, and she never asked.

            “Jiro-san works at the Hot & Steamy Cafe in Ginza,” Yumi said. “I told Kei-kun the drive might be too far for him, but I guess Jiro-san really wants to come. Anyway, let's at least go inside and get the table. We can wait for the guys in there.”

            Maki and Yumi walked shoulder to shoulder and Sakuma didn't mind bringing up the rear. A group of mixed couples took their time getting in through the front door, creating a line behind them. Sakuma and her friends joined the line, and chatted while they waited. Yumi described Kei down to the last detail, his hobbies, and wild style. Apparently, he was in a band named, “Delirious,” that played all over Japan in clubs and outdoor venues. All of the talk appeared to heighten Maki's enthusiasm and she asked about Seiichi and Jiro. Yumi didn't know much about them, but if they were friends of Kei's then they had to be just as hot and dreamy.

            Sakuma stared off down the street, bright colors from cross walks, stop lights, and street lamps brightening the road. She listened to her friends gossip, but couldn't stop herself from tapping her foot from anxiousness. She would have much rather stayed home, pulled on her pink, fluffy socks, and curled up in front of a good television drama.

            Goosebumps pricked the hair on her arms and back of her legs.

            Whirling around, Sakuma stared down the sidewalk, where other groups of people congregated in tight circles, whistling, cat-calling, and talking as though they were performing for everyone else out on the street.

            She had a strange feeling the demons were nearby. But Beelzebub remained in hell that day, and Azazel couldn't do much out on his own. Surely, she was mistaken.

            _It's what happened with Akutabe._ Her lips twisted at each end. _I feel bad for lying to him, and then Azazel-san said all of those things. Maybe I should've stayed late after all. We could have ordered a pizza and ate dinner at the agency._

            Ah, but too late now. She hoped Akutabe's mood would subside. He had never been directly angry at her, but why test the waters? Until she found something better, she needed this job, despite the fact that it was paying her peanuts for the time being. She just couldn't seem to get out from underneath all of that self-inflicted debt.

            “Sakuma-san, you coming?” Sakuma flinched and whirled back to her friends. Yumi stared at her with a kind of impatience reserved only for a man, and said, “We're going in now.”

            “Oh, of course.” Sakuma smiled and followed.

            The pub's walls squished together tighter than the one where their last mixer had been. She found herself squeezing her body into a tight ball as she slid past other patrons, but silently chastised herself and promised to have a good time, even if the men all ended up being morons. The noise level grated on her nerves, and all of the pub's lighting cascaded through the cutout constellations on the walls and ceiling, just as Yumi said. The name of each constellation glowed under the shapes, and small lines charted from wall to wall, showing longitude, latitude, magnitude, clusters, and everything that Sakuma remembered seeing when she had taken her astrology class. The floor had black carpet with cutouts for twinkling lights that were apparently meant to represent stars. The inside of the pub looked like a giant dome to fit the aesthetic of an observatory, and a metal, spiraling staircase roamed upward in the back of the pub. Sakuma doubted that it went anywhere, judging by how the stairs led straight into the ceiling. Maybe there was a hatch, but she couldn't see one.

            Several patrons were with mugs in the shape of telescopes, and she wondered about their functionality. People managed to drink from them with success, but she didn't want a telescope mug. All drinks were named after constellations and astrologists, and a large screen behind the bar showed a swirling galaxy that would make one dizzy if they stared for too long. Sakuma squinted and tried to follow her friends and the host through the pub. She hoped that her eyes would adjust to the strange lights. 

            There were only low tables with sunken floors—most of them were filled, so it had to be a decent place—and smelled of sake and fried food. The host led them around partitions, tables, and drunk groups until an empty table came into view. The host placed several menus in the middle of the table before walking away. The three girls sat on one side, with Yumi at one end and Maki in the middle. Sakuma sat at the other end, set her purse on the sunken floor by her feet, and stared at the empty side reserved for the men. 

            “We can start without them.” Yumi chuckled and glanced at the menu, turning it over in her hands. She ordered a large bottle of plum wine when the waiter came around. “Let's stick to what we know,” she said, and gestured to the drink menu.

            Sakuma took the time to see it for herself. The drink names were daunting, though she did want to know what was in the Perseus. Yumi was right; no one could go wrong with wine and beer.

            The waiter took the order, along with Maki's miso soup and salad, to which Yumi chimed in with a set of appetizers: gyoza, more miso soup, and the pub specialty, whatever that was. When the waiter came back, he set down two bowls of rice crackers, and took all but one of the menus away.

            Sakuma sat in nervous silence while Maki and Yumi continued to talk about Kei, who drove a sporty blue car with his own custom paint job and tinted windows that folded out with the touch of a button. If only for the sake of meeting such a legend, Sakuma found that she couldn't wait to see him.

            “It should be better than last time,” Yumi said. “At least I get to participate now.”

            “And, you know, I don't know what came over me before, but I don't foresee a hospital ride tonight.” Maki tossed her head back and laughed, her dangling earrings jingling against each other.

            Sakuma forced a smile, but her eyes fell to the bowl of rice crackers. She found herself hungry, but not for that. The gyoza would be a better choice, and was worth the wait.

            “So if Kei-san's such a famous guitarist, what's he doing working at a convenience store?” Maki asked.

            “Well…” Yumi drew her shoulders up to her neck, as though sheepish, and said, “He doesn't like to brag about it. He's real humble, you know? He saves that kind of energy for when he's up on stage.”

            “Oh, so you've seen him play?” Sakuma pressed herself against the table and looked at Yumi.

            Yumi shook her head. “Not live, anyway. He's shown me videos online of their gigs, and their style is something that I think you'd really like, Sakuma-san. He plays the guitar and he's their lead singer, too. There's a fourth guy in their band, but he's out of the country right now.”

            Sakuma nodded, and wondered about the validity of Yumi's remarks. Either she was building him up to be beyond the status of a mere human, or Kei was playing her hard.

            “There he is,” Yumi hissed and poked each of the girls. “Oh, and there's his friend, Seiichi-san. Oh my God, they're so cute, aren't they?”

            Sakuma glanced up and her eyes sought out the legendary beauty with the silver ear cuff. There, in the middle of Orion's constellation, stood two men looking around the room. Yumi raised up as best as she could under the low table, and waved until they saw her. A head full of spiked hair dyed silver unfolded into view, and Sakuma found herself slightly disappointed that Yumi's bragging of the good looking Kei Murasaki wasn't just hot air. The boy, who wasn't a boy, and more like a God, was damn sexy, and Sakuma immediately wished Yumi hadn't called him off limits. Because it had been mentioned so often, the first thing she noticed was the silver ear cuff on his right ear, the chiseled structure of his cheeks and chin, and the way his eyes seemed to be branded with a permanent twinkle. Even though his blue contacts were as fake as his silver hair, she could look past all of that, especially when the first words out of his mouth were, “Yumi-san, you didn't tell me that you would be among the most beautiful women in Tokyo.”

            Maki gushed and dropped her face into the flats of her hands. Yumi giggled, and Sakuma's eyes fell on one of the untouched bowls of rice crackers.

            Kei and the one named “Seiichi” looked down at the girls, Kei's burgundy over-shirt hung open to reveal a black t-shirt with the words “Punk Ass” on them. The ends of his black slacks bunched over dark combat boots, the toes highlighted by the glow of the carpet lights. 

            “This is my friend, Toyama Seiichi,” Kei went on. “He's in my band as the drummer.”

            Sakuma composed herself and dared to look up. Seiichi, though shorter than the God, Kei, was built more like an athlete, as opposed to a drummer. His shoulder-length, tan hair was also most likely dyed—another sin that could be forgiven—because he smiled a smile of perfect white teeth and complimented each girl personally. He modeled a gray over-shirt with rolled sleeves to reveal toned arms. There was the faint shape of a cigarette box tucked into one of the rolls. His neckline and collarbone were cut out beneath a white tank top, and tucked into black cargo pants and a belt. The buckle twinkled a copper or brass color—Sakuma couldn't tell which. She found that she was too distracted by his shapely biceps to hear his, “And who is this lovely girl?” when directed at her.

            “That's Sakuma Rinko,” Yumi introduced, her face relaxing into a wide smile. Naturally, Kei sat across from her.

            Seiichi offered Sakuma a personal white toothed smile and wink before seating himself in front of Maki.

            “Jiro should be here, soon,” Kei said. “He's just running a little late.” He reached across the table for a rice cracker. His long, slender fingers pushed against several crackers before settling on one. “The last thing he texted was that he could hear a strange noise coming from his tire, so he pulled over to check it out.”

            “Oh, that's not good at all,” Yumi said, her eyes piercing through Kei. Sakuma wondered if she had even registered what was being said. “Well, he has to come because the reservation is for three.”

            Kei laughed. “Well, that's a pretty high demand. I'm sure he'll be here.” He folded his hands across the table. “Man, work was pretty slow, you know. But, the funny thing is I feel like I've had some kind of nightmare. I didn't tell anyone else I was coming to a mixer, but it feels like I did, you know?” He chuckled. “This whole mixer thing has me feeling some déjà vu.”

            “Oh,” Yumi placed her hand on one of his. “Are you feeling all right?”

            He took her fingers in between his own. “Yeah, yeah. Just found the whole thing strange, is all. I think it's because I'm just excited about tonight.”

            The two stared into each other's eyes, and Sakuma looked away to give them privacy.

            “Shall we get some proper introductions in, then?” Seiichi looked at Maki. “How about you?”

            Maki's hands fluttered in front of her face as she giggled, and then settled them under her chin. “I'm Hishiyama Maki. I'm really good at making sweets and I love plushies. My friends, like Yumi-chan, say that I'm a total girly-girl, but I think I'm a little more tomboyish, don't you think?”

            “Most definitely,” Seiichi said, but his eyes were on the rice crackers. He took two more and popped one in his mouth.

            The waiter returned and placed a bottle of plum wine on the table. The girls' glasses were filled, the stem of each glass decorated in gold stars and suns, and the boys each ordered a different kind of beer. Sakuma hadn't taken Seiichi for the light beer kind of guy, but it made her happy that someone liked the same kind of beer that she did. She stared at him as she nursed her wine and Yumi talked about her hobbies and the things she did in her free time. A plate of gyoza settled in front of Sakuma, while the other in front of Seiichi, who snatched up a plump piece and stuffed it in his mouth. Maki had her soup and salad, while Yumi and Kei shared a bowl of miso soup, and the pub specialty: baked avocado and cheese. Seiichi didn't want the telescope beer mug, but Kei said that he felt game, and laughed like a child with a new toy when the beers came.

            “I'm not sure which end you grab it from.” Kei turned the odd-shaped mug around and delicately grabbed the part of the mug that represented the telescope's legs. “Here, maybe?”

            Yumi giggled and Maki offered assistance, but proved to be no help. Finally, Kei took the drink in both hands and drank it that way.

            Sakuma watched Kei with some interest, noticing that his attention roamed Yumi's body, observing the slit in the front of her chest, down to her navel. Maki pushed herself up against the table, and her breasts settled, bunched together, on the tabletop. Sakuma's eyes moved to Seiichi, who seemed that he couldn't help but to stop eating and stare.

            “Uh…” Seiichi blinked and looked away. His eyes wandered to the table next to theirs, filled with men and women, and he asked, “So, uh, Sakuma-san, what about you? What are you into?”

            Sakuma opened her mouth to speak when a little jingle filled the air. Kei fished around in his pocket and produced a rather large cell phone with a black case. He stared at the screen long enough for Sakuma to realize that a dragon was etched onto the back of the case.

            “Well, that sucks,” he said after a moment and his fingers skittered across the phone screen.

            “What's that?” Yumi asked.

            He tucked the phone into his pocket and sighed. “Jiro says his tire caught something really weird in it, like a piece of metal shrapnel or something. It shredded his tire, so he won't be making it tonight.”

            “No, that can't happen.” Maki's eyes widened and she turned to Sakuma. “Sakuma-san needs a guy she can be interested in, too, otherwise she won't have anyone.”

            The comment made the girl cringe, but Sakuma forced a smile and she shook her head. “No, you've got it all wrong, I'm just here for friends and some fun. That's all.”

            “Oh, some fun?” Seiichi grinned and winked at her.

            Sakuma drew her shoulders up to her ears and hoped they couldn't spot her blush in the low light. She wasn't used to comments like these, and anything Azazel said was just gross and dirty. It made her feel as though she never wanted to hear remarks like those again, but coming from someone like Seiichi made her forget that Azazel's sexual harassment didn't have to be brought into the real world. The real world had real men in it with real compliments and one day, when Sakuma no longer worked at the agency and graduated from Saseda, she would settle down with one of those men. She would have a real family and a real job with no debt. And that man would be just like the ones she watched on drama television, and would gift her with flowers and new shoes, even if she told him not to. He would ask her to marry him at sunset, when she wasn't expecting it, after they had just had a nice dinner. Sakuma was a romantic. She imagined a Western-styled proposal, him getting down on one knee and asking. He would be confident, but his words would come out shaky, because he wouldn't be sure if she'd accept. It would be cute that way.

            “Ah, thanks for saving me a seat.”

            A faint gasp escaped Maki and Yumi, and Sakuma briefly glanced their way. For a split second, she saw astonishment, and a hint of color that wasn't from Maki's makeup spread across her face. Even in the glow from the constellation cut, it was evident. The boys looked up, prompting Sakuma to do the same.

            There, in all of his condescending glory, stood Akutabe, dressed in his normal suit with hands in pockets, peering down at no one else but Sakuma. He blended in with the darkness, and the haloed glow from the Delphinus constellation crowned his head. There was the ghost of a smile on his face as he sat across from her. He reached over the table and snatched a gyoza from off her plate. His smile merely spread as he took a small bite and his attention shifted to the others across the way.

            “Uh…” Seiichi drew back and cast a look of concern to Yumi and Maki. “Can we help you?”

            Akutabe swallowed the gyoza and held the other half up near his mouth. “Isn't it obvious? I'm here for the mixer. You seem to be a third person short, and the reservation is for three and three, correct?”

            Sakuma felt the ends of her lips draw down into a frown, but there was no use in causing a scene. It was as he said—they were short a person, so his presence wouldn't make the reservation go to waste, but his timing was peculiar, and if there was something she knew about Akutabe, he never did anything by coincidence.

            “Ah, guys…” She laughed and clapped her hands together. “This is my boss, Akutabe-san.” She turned back to him. “Akutabe-san, this here is Maki-chan, and this is Yumi-chan, and these two are Kei-san and Seiichi-san.”

            He nodded and popped the other half of the gyoza into his mouth.

            “Sakuma-san.” Maki leaned close and whispered in the other girl's ear, “You never said that your boss was a _hunk._ ”

            Sakuma tried to keep her laugh as natural as possible, but the plum wine had kicked in and nothing could be kept natural at this point. Seiichi and Kei stared at each other with looks that read, “You invite him?”

            With a forced smile, it seemed, Yumi leaned over the table to stare at Sakuma, “Sakuma-san, you didn't tell me you invited your boss to join us. It seems like good timing that Jiro-san couldn't make it, now, but I'm surprised you would have known that. You sure like inviting other people to our mixers, don't you?”

            Sakuma's eyebrows lifted and she grabbed her glass of wine. “Oh, I didn't know, honest. And Akutabe-san only knew that I was going to this mixer because I asked to leave early.”

            “No, you didn't.” Akutabe reached across the table and stole another gyoza. She huffed and pulled the plate away. He stared at her with a smirk as he took a slow bite. He swallowed and said, “You invited me, remember?”

            She knew she was catching a buzz, but she clearly did _not_ remember inviting him. She also didn't know how he knew where she'd be, unless Azazel blurted it out—which was more than likely—and she really wanted to know why his impeccable timing had landed him here, right when their third man had canceled.

            Sakuma beamed and hoped it didn't look fake as she said, “No, I didn't.”

            Akutabe nodded and said, “Yes, Sakuma-san, you _did,_ ” and popped the rest of the gyoza into his mouth. His eyes fell on the plate she had taken from him, and she followed his gaze.

            There was only one gyoza left.

            She couldn't stop her snarl as she snatched the last piece up and shoved it into her mouth. Then, she dropped the empty plate onto the table. It clanked louder than she had anticipated and drew in the stares of those around her.

            “Either way…” Maki leaned in his direction and casually brushed her bangs from her eyes. “I'm really glad to finally be able to meet you, Akutabe-san. Sakuma-san talks quite a bit about work at the agency, and how you're a detective, and that you're really smart, and you solve all of these cases…”

            “Woah, a detective?” Seiichi's eyes widened and seemed to have lost all reservation he held against Akutabe. That, or the beer was kicking in. “That's really cool, man. You only see that kind of stuff in the movies. So, you work on murder cases or hitmen or something? Maybe the Yakuza?”

            Sakuma didn't expect much emotion from her boss. He was all about practicality and business. Someone like Seiichi couldn't understand that, underneath all of that calm and collective style, dwelt a demonic, twisted man, and Sakuma felt that she was one of the few who truly had been able to witness that side of Akutabe.

            But it seemed that Akutabe could hold conversation just like any other human being, which left her speechless.

            “Our agency accepts just about any case, really,” her boss explained, as though he were considering Seiichi as a client. “Of course, there are certain privacy polices that we must follow, but we pride ourselves on taking on the kinds of cases that other agencies won't touch.”

            Sakuma's hand snaked around the stem of her wine glass, watching as Akutabe nonchalantly explained the law of their agency. He smoothly glossed over the topic of using demons to carry out his dirty work, and the fact that nearly all of their cases were solved via curses and other unhappy measures. But everyone at the table—including Yumi, which surprised her, seemed engrossed in Akutabe's explanation. Sakuma threw back her drink and licked the rim before reaching across the table to take the bottle and pour herself another.

            “That's pretty cool.” Kei nodded to himself and scratched his beautiful, chiseled cheek. “Man, I might have to stop by and talk to you more. I've been going through some copyright issues lately, and I'm pretty sure a rival band stole some of my songs, but I can't prove it, see? Think you could take on something like that?”

            With fingers laced together and elbows perched on the table, Akutabe settled his chin on his hands. His lips pulled into a smarmy grin that only Sakuma knew was smarmy.

            “Yes, of course,” he said. Then his attention darted to Sakuma. “Sakuma-san, give him your business card.”

            She swirled the drink in her hands and pouted. “I'm not at work. Give him one of yours.”

            “Sakuma-san,” Yumi hissed. “You really shouldn't speak to your boss like that. It's rude.” But, from the way her eyes sparkled when observing the demon detective, Sakuma was certain that it was because Yumi had become smitten.

            As though Akutabe hadn't heard Sakuma, he reached into his front coat pocket and produced a white, rectangular card. He handed it to Kei, and the two talked a moment longer about forming a potential working relationship.

            Sakuma stared down into her glass, the thick, amber liquid forming viscous bubbles on the surface. The effects of the wine had crept up and embraced her from behind, and she found that she had no choice but to succumb to slight swaying, and slurred speech. Of course, she could hold her tolerance long enough to understand that her irritation in the matter stemmed from her boss's sudden drop-in on her good evening, and the fact that she knew that he was plotting something, even if she couldn't quite figure out what it was.

            Just like at the cosplay convention, when Beelzebub somehow became the star of the show, Akutabe proved that he could achieve the same results.

            The waiter returned, pen and paper at the ready. “More drinks or food for you?”

            Sakuma lifted her half-empty glass into the air. “Another bottle of plum wine.”

            “Sakuma-san, we're not even done with the bottle we have now,” Yumi said in a low voice. “Who do you think is paying for it?”

            “I'll get it,” Akutabe said, his eyes shifting to Sakuma.

            Her stomach sank when she saw his stare. He planned on adding it to her debt, she just knew it.

            “Wow, Akutabe-san, you're so nice.” Maki laughed and took Sakuma by the shoulder. “Why are we only just now meeting your boss, Sakuma-san? You never said that he was _this_ good-looking and nice. I'm glad he showed up to the mixer, after all.”

            “Trust me,” she mumbled. “You don't want to consider him as a candidate, Maki-chan.”

            Maki lightly slapped her across the arm. “That's awfully rude, Sakuma-san. Here he is, buying our bottle of wine, and you're saying such mean things. I don't even know what to say to you.”

            Sakuma blanched, her gaze moving around the table. Everyone's glare burned into her and made her feel like the worst person ever. Then she saw the narrow slits of Akutabe's eyes and his obnoxious sneer, and immediately felt justified. His sneer was short lived and he turned his attention to the waiter and ordered another plate of gyoza. Sakuma found that she wasn't hungry anymore, but her friends and the guys ordered more appetizers for the table to share.

            When the waiter went away, Yumi said, “So, Akutabe-san, we had just gotten through introductions before you arrived. Maki-chan and I also go to Saseda University with Sakuma-san.”

            “Ah, so I'm sure you do plenty of study sessions together.” Akutabe shot Sakuma a dead stare, but she knew exactly what it meant.

            Yumi, on the other hand, looked confused. “Huh?” Her eyes darted to Maki, who shared the same befuddlement. “We've never done any study sessions together. Sakuma-san doesn't even come to school all that often.”

            Sakuma averted her gaze when Akutabe's attention returned to her.

            “Oh, is that right?” he said in his familiar I-caught-you-lying-again tone. No one but her would understand it, but she wished they could.

            She downed the rest of her wine and slammed the glass on the table. “May I speak to you outside for a moment?” she asked, but had already staggered to her feet. She gestured for her boss to do the same.

            “Sakuma-san, we're at a mixer,” Maki protested. “You can't take one of the candidates outside. That's cheating.”

            “He's my boss,” Sakuma stated, as though Maki and the others forgot. “It's work related.”

            “Leave work at the door and let him stay here,” Maki said.

            “Hey, if it's about work, let them talk work real fast,” Seiichi intervened. “I mean, they've gotta be really busy with detective work and busting criminals and solving cases. Probably pretty top secret, you know.”

            “Yeah,” Sakuma concurred, but her eyes never left Akutabe, who silently stood. “Extra top secret.”

            “Well, don't stay gone for too long.” Kei laughed and snapped his fingers. “I want to hear more about your guys' agency and some of the big cases you've solved.”

            Sakuma was halfway through saying, “That's classified information,” but Akutabe overrode her with, “Sure.”

            It was definitely the plum wine that forced Sakuma to grab Akutabe by the arm and yank him toward the door. Only the small, sober part of her realized that he did little to resist.

            “You know damn well that you can't share any of that information,” she scolded and stumbled around a couple blocking her way. “What are you going to do, tell them about Azazel-san and the others?”

            Even over the roar of patrons in the pub and chinking glasses, she could hear him say, “I was going to let you take care of that, since you seem to tell stories so well.”

            Sakuma halted and jerked her head up at him. His trademark, sinister smile never seemed to leave his face, but she could think of at least ten good ways to make it go away.

            She rolled her eyes and continued out the door. “Ohhhh…Wipe that grin off your face.”

            She cringed as the night air clipped her body and she hugged herself close. Her arms tightened around her chest and she squeezed her legs together to keep them from shaking. The last thing that she wanted was to appear vulnerable to Akutabe. She had to maintain her disposition. She was pissed, and she wanted him to know it. The warmth from the wine tingled her cheeks, but it was about the only place. She wished she could transfer that heat to her bare thighs and arms.

            “What's your game?” she began once they stepped out onto the sidewalk.

            She hated his stolid stare, and how she could never truly grasp what he was thinking. Sometimes, it was easy, especially when the demons were involved, but when it was just the two of them, he was oftentimes quiet, dedicated to work, or a million miles away. He seemed somewhere in between all three of those things at that exact moment.

            “What do you mean?” he asked as casually as though she had asked him what he wanted for dinner that night, or what kind of tea she should brew.

            She jabbed a finger at him. “Don't give me that. Why are you here?”

            “Because you asked me to come outside.”

            Her fingernails dug into the flesh of her palm and she struggled not to make a scene. “I'm talking about the mixer,” she said, the strain to remain calm grating on her vocal cords. That, or it was the slur from the alcohol. She decided to go with the former. “Didn't you say that you had a client who needed results as soon as possible? You're supposed to be pulling a late shift at the office.”

            He offered her his profile. “Oh. I got it covered.”

            A lie. An _obvious_ lie. Still, she managed, “And the mixer? You said earlier that it was ridiculous, so what are you doing here?”

            Akutabe shrugged and glanced back to her. “I wanted to see if it was as innocent as you say. I can't claim to have ever gone to one before.”

            She peered up at him from over her glasses. “Uh-huh. So you crashed mine. I'm not even going to ask how you found me, because I'm sure Azazel-san spilled his guts as soon as I left. What I _really_ want to know is what you did to Jiro-san, because I know that all of this didn't happen by accident.”

            “What's that?”

            She uncurled her arms and balled her hands into shaking fists. “Really? You didn't know that Jiro-san _somehow_ ended up with shrapnel in his tire, so he couldn't come? And, of course, as soon as that happens, you come waltzing up to our table.”

            “I don't remember waltzing.”

            Sakuma stamped her foot. A part of her realized that her theatrics were alcohol induced, and, were she sober, this would all come off as both indignant and mortifying. Her boss had never seen her tipsy before, and that line of professionalism and play had been crossed. Even though he had started it by coming to the mixer, her graceless inebriation did her no justice. 

            She told herself that she would worry about it later.

            “You know what I mean,” she snapped. “You did something to Jiro-san's car, didn't you?”

            Akutabe expelled air through his lips, pushed his hands deeper into his pockets, and looked away. “Perhaps you should take your friends' advice and quit being so rude toward your employer.” His eyes darted back to her. “After all, I _did_ just buy your next bottle of plum wine, which you might not need, if you're already having difficulty walking and talking.”

            She could admit that she had lost a bit of bounce in her step, but she was of sound mind, even if she couldn't get the words out all the time. So far, Sakuma thought she had been articulating quite well, but it didn't stop the blush from crossing her face at the thought that her boss had noticed her discomposure.

            She hugged herself and kept her face as stern as possible. Despite what he said, liquid courage would help keep her from faltering. She had faith that it would.

            “You're just going to add the balance to my debt,” she retorted. “Like you always do.”

            He tilted his head to the side. “Well, how else were you expecting to pay? It's not like you have any extra money to throw around.”

            She rolled her lips together and pushed her glasses up on her nose with the palm of her hand. Finances were the last thing she wanted to discuss, especially with her boss. “So why are you _really_ here, Akutabe-san? Are you thinking that you can score with one of my friends?”

            His mouth pulled back to reveal two rows of white teeth. How badly she wanted to knock some of them out. “I'd be lying if I said that they weren't cute.”

            She didn't bother to stifle her groan, and turned to walk back inside. “Please don't say that,” she called over her shoulder. “It's weird.”

            Akutabe shrugged again, but the smile remained plastered on his face. He trailed after her, though she knew she walked slow and zigzagged toward the door. Her hand reached out for the door frame, and she steadied herself before entering the pub. She didn't want his help, and felt appreciative that he didn't offer. It wasn't as though she didn't know what she was doing or the way back to her friends, she thought. Given enough time, she could make it to the table on her own, even if she had to guide herself by touching every table, partition, and wall along the way. Luckily, none of that needed to come about and she walked as properly as she could. Akutabe followed behind her, and said nothing until they reached their table.

            “That was short,” Maki said when they both were seated.

            “Like I said,” Sakuma said. “Work related.”

            The waiter had come during their absence with the appetizers and second bottle of plum wine. Sakuma stared through the glass of the first bottle and realized that someone had polished it off without her. She took the second bottle and poured more wine into her glass. She even added a little extra, telling herself that it was justified since, in all reality, _she_ would be the one paying for the wine. Four plates of gyoza were on the table, with one closest to Akutabe. Two small plates of cucumber salad, four bowls of miso soup, and a plate of spring rolls were in the center of the table. The waiter had even brought out another bowl of complimentary rice crackers.

            Kei was in the middle of a story about his band on tour across the west coast of Japan. Their tour bus ran out of gas and there was no cell reception in the entire mountain region. In the end, Kei, his band mates, manager, and driver all had to carry their instruments and walk.

            “Just imagine,” Kei said with a laugh, “Seiichi here dragging only half of his drum set behind him. It was the most hysterical thing I'd ever seen.”

            Seiichi did not appear to be sharing the sentiment. He rolled his eyes and looked about ready for the story to be over with. He crossed his arms and said, “You didn't have to abandon several thousand yen worth of equipment, Kei. I just bought that set the week before, too.”

            “I want to hear your band play,” Yumi said and looked to Maki. “Maybe we can all go the next time they're performing.”

            Maki nodded. “I would love to hear their music. Maybe you'll get us some backstage passes?”

            Seiichi laughed. “Of course, of course. Anything for three pretty ladies.” His eyes fell on Sakuma just as she took a sip of wine. “You'll come too, right, Sakuma-san?”

            “Huh?” she said into the glass and then pulled it away. “Oh, of course I'd love to hear you play. I'm a fan of all kinds of music.”

            Kei leaned back to look at the demon detective. “And I'd be disappointed if you didn't come, Akutabe-san. Especially if you can help me get my music back. Hell, I'd write a song and dedicate it to you.”

            “That won't be necessary.” Akutabe dipped a piece of gyoza into a sauce bowl. “Come by the office in the morning and we can talk more.”

            “You bet,” Kei said.

            Sakuma kept a steady balance between drinking and pouring from the bottle. Maki and Yumi did not appear to notice, as they were sharing off of Kei and Seiichi's beers, but Akutabe had a watchful eye, and took the bottle away when a little less than half of the bottle remained.

            “That's enough for now,” he said and set the bottle on the ground next to him. “Just because you're paying for it doesn't mean you get to have it all to yourself.”

            She pouted and felt her body sway as she held her wine glass. She had only been able to pour a little bit before he snatched it from her hand, and it didn't feel right to nurse two sips worth of wine. Maki took the opportunity to hold out her wine glass, to which Akutabe obliged. Sakuma watched him pour with much disdain, and tried not to groan when he gave her a little more than he should've.

            “Thank you, Akutabe-san.” Maki winked and took a sip. “So, things must get really exciting working at a detective agency, huh? What's the basis for your cases?”

            “There's no real basis,” he said. “I'm not afraid to accept any kind of job.” His eyes moved to Sakuma and he said, “Once, we even took on a case to find a missing dog.”

            _And that turned out_ _ **so**_ _well._

            She grimaced. There was no getting good marks in that class, and once Professor Tadashi left, she had to take it all over again. And it was all Akutabe's fault.

            “A missing dog?” Maki over-exaggerated her gasp and leaned closer in his direction. “My, you really _do_ take on any case. Maybe I'll have to stop by and talk to you about finding one of my missing things. I really have been in despair without it.”

            Sakuma shook her head and stared into her near-empty glass. It didn't sound like Maki had lost anything important—she most likely was trying to think of something off the top of her head, and using the agency as an excuse to come by and see her boss.

            _Don't think such unkind thoughts, Sakuma. You're as bad as Megumi-san._

            Sakuma couldn't deny that it would be strange if Maki and Akutabe hooked up, and she wasn't sure if she would be okay with the pairing. It was already bad enough that her boss had come to embarrass her, but if he actually got something out of it, like a girlfriend, Sakuma didn't think she'd take it very well. It would make working at the agency very uncomfortable. She wished that Maki would stop batting her fake eyelashes at him. She also wished that Akutabe would put the bottle back on the table.

            “Come by if you'd like,” he said and ate the last of his gyoza.

            Kei and Yumi kept to each other for a while, as though there wasn't anyone else at the table. Sakuma caught bits and pieces of their conversation, mostly about Fu-Kus and stories from having worked together. Maki tried to keep her own conversation with Akutabe going, but Sakuma noticed that each time he replied, he didn't leave the conversation open-ended. It meant that Maki had to try harder to keep him engaged. She asked him about his hobbies, free time, food he liked, and the women he was into.

            Seiichi talked to Sakuma, but she wanted to listen in on her boss and friend's conversation more, even as she pretended to be interested in what Seiichi had to say. She stared and nodded and made noises in the back of her throat to indicate attention, but when she heard Maki ask, “What's your favorite kind of girl?” Sakuma did her best to listen to Akutabe's answer.

            He didn't reply right away, and Sakuma's eyes flashed to him long enough to see his attention drawn to the empty gyoza plate. Akutabe opened his mouth, “I—”

            “Wow!” Kei's hyena laugh caused Sakuma to flinch as the interruption struck her ears and she turned to him. He held his phone in one hand and shook his head. “Jiro's a moron.”

            Seiichi leaned over Kei's shoulder to stare down at the phone. “What? What happened?”

            Kei pulled back and set the phone down on the table. “Okay, get this, everyone. I guess that while Jiro was trying to get here, he thought he'd take a shortcut through some construction site. One of the workers had his tools scattered out on the side of the road and Jiro pulled up to the curb or something. Anyway, he ran over Dude's jackhammer and the tip broke off into his tire.” He threw his arms up and shook his head. “How the hell do you _not_ see a jackhammer, huh? And going through a construction site? Pulling up to a _curb?_ Man, so many negatives there, I don't even know where to start.”

            Seiichi's twitching fingers seized a rice cracker. “Well, Jiro's a special case, you know. He's never been a bright guy. Best bass player I've ever met, though.”

            Sakuma's thumb and forefinger squeezed against the stem of her glass, and she kept her eyes downcast.

            Her lips pushed together as Akutabe chuckled and said, “Oh, no kidding, huh? A jackhammer? His own fault, then?”

            She could feel his eyes burning a hole into her head, so she glanced up. Indeed, his stare was a frightful one, accompanied by the grin that never seemed to go away. The others laughed and commented, but Sakuma found herself unconvinced.

            “Your timing is still too impeccable,” she mumbled, but, somehow, he managed to hear.

            “Sometimes, there are such things called 'coincidences,' Sakuma-san.” Akutabe chuckled again and reached into the rice cracker bowl. He produced one and added, “You have a bad habit of forming assumptions upon first sight. Why would I do something to someone I've never met?”

            “Why do you do a lot of things?” She threw back the last of her drink and reached across the table toward him, her outstretched fingers grabby and impatient. “Gimme the bottle.”

            “Oh, this?” He picked it up from off the ground and stared at the label. Then he held it up in front of everyone. “I think we should see if anyone else would like a drink. You've already had most of it.”

            Maki thrust her glass out. “I'd like some more.”

            “Me, too,” Yumi said. “Kei-kun's beer is giving me dry mouth.”

            Kei popped his tongue in his cheek and shook his head. “It's a good beer, but whatever you say.”

            Akutabe obliged both girls, and Sakuma watched as he poured far more than necessary into each of their glasses. By the time he finished, there was only a little bit left in the bottle.

            He turned to Kei and Seiichi. “Want some?”

            “No thanks,” Seiichi said and Kei held up his own beer as a silent refusal.

            Akutabe, who had no drink and nothing to put it in, put the bottle to his lips and polished off the wine. With a smile, he set the empty bottle down in front of Sakuma, label out, for her to stare at. He leaned back.

            Sakuma's lips trembled as she muttered, “I really hate you.”

            “Perhaps you should to learn to share,” her boss replied.

            Kei and Yumi went back to their conversation, and Seiichi listened to Maki as she spoke about her photos in last month's fashion magazine. Her attention was reserved for Akutabe, and, while he did seem to be looking at her, Sakuma recognized his “million-miles-away” face.

            “Did you do your own hair?” Seiichi asked Maki.

            “Yes,” she replied and bounced her ponytail in her hand. “Do you like it? I mastered the hair spray, so it always sets just right. No bad hair days for me.”

            Seiichi raked his fingers through his tan locks. “Same here. I dye it all myself, too. Chicks dig it when we're on stage.” His eyes darted to Sakuma. “Have you ever thought about getting your hair done, Sakuma-san?”

            His question startled her, but she laughed and twirled the empty wine glass in her hand. Her thoughts had been preoccupied on going up to the bar to get a drink.

            “Oh, I haven't really considered it,” she said. “I'm not really into makeup or doing my hair. Of course, I've never tried.”

            “Is that right?” he responded with a nod.

            “I keep trying to get her to come over to my place for a girl's night,” Maki cut in. “She always makes up some excuse, though. I keep telling her that she'll never get a boyfriend if she doesn't make the effort to doll herself up once in a while.” Maki giggled and embraced Sakuma, who did not return the hug. “You're cute, Sakuma-san, but you need to let your Sister Maki take care of you once in a while. Fall in love! I've told you this before.”

            “Or if you're too embarrassed to let your friend work on you, I could do something with your hair,” Seiichi said. “I know it's kind of a girly thing, but I actually enjoy hairstyling.”

            Maki waved a hand at him and giggled. “A man after my own heart.” Her eyes turned to Akutabe, who was watching the trio in silence. “What about you, Akutabe-san? Who does your hair?”

            “The barber,” he said.

            “Oh, that's no fun.” Maki propped her chin in her hand. “Maybe you should try getting your hair styled, too. Have you ever tried it?”

            “Can't say I've had the desire.” He put his empty gyoza plate to the side and pulled a bowl of rice crackers closer. He plucked one from the pile and nibbled on the end, all the while of staring at Sakuma.

            She hated when he did that, especially since she couldn't tell what he was thinking. His attention shifted when Maki started to speak again, ticking off on her fingers the kinds of men that she found attractive.

            “Band members, actors, guys with long hair, guys with wild hair, guys who speak with a Kansai dialect—hot!—foreign guys—Italians are my favorite, and my knees go weak for men in suits.” She smiled at Akutabe as she said that last part.

            _Sounds like any guy,_ Sakuma thought to herself and then shook her head. Akutabe's presence had put her in a bad mood and she was taking it out on her friends.

            Seiichi got up to use the bathroom, leaving Sakuma to have to endure a conversation that she knew wasn't meant to include her. Maki talked to Akutabe about various things, who only watched her, but said nothing. Yumi and Kei were on the other side of the table, talking and holding hands. Kei stroked her fingers with his thumb. A light blush ran across Yumi's cheeks, or, perhaps, that was the alcohol. He still had half of a beer left in his telescope mug and she only a little bit of wine in her glass. Sakuma wished she had wine.

            Force of habit brought her empty glass up to her lips when she remembered that she was short on alcohol supply. Her eyes trailed to the busy bar, customers pushed up against each other like sardines. The swirling galaxy screen in the background made her dizzy, and she tried not to stare. The bartender rushed from one end of the counter to the other, took orders, and then barked something at a waiter on the other side of the room. Her inner debate left her defeated as soon as she realized that any extra expenses would have to be spent on rent, bills, and paying back Akutabe.

            Besides, she knew if she were to leave to get more, he'd embarrass her in front of the bartender. She had a fairly good buzz going as it was, and any more would push her over her tolerance. As boring as it sounded to be a responsible adult, Sakuma placed her empty wine glass on the table and vowed to forget about it.

            “You okay with beer?” came a man's voice from above. A large mug of beer settled itself in front of her face and Seiichi squatted down next to her. “I went to get another beer and thought that you might want one. I didn't get it in their stupid telescope mug, though. I hope that's okay. I still don't know how Kei's drinking out of it without spilling it everywhere.”

            Sakuma felt her face light up as she embraced the mug in her hands. It was a light beer—most likely a duplicate of what Seiichi had been drinking before, and, not only did she enjoy this kind of beer, it was _alcohol._ And she hadn't had to pay for it.

            Of course, this did not escape Akutabe's attention, and he glared at Seiichi, although the other did not notice. He stayed squatting next to Sakuma, beer in his own hand, and blissfully unaware of the displeasure emitting from her boss.

            “I love light beers,” she confessed before taking a large gulp from the mug. It tasted bitter after having been drinking sweet wine all night, but Sakuma didn't care. She could wash away the sweet plum with a few rice crackers and all would be right again. “Thank you so much.”

            “My pleasure.” He winked at her and clicked his tongue against his cheek before standing and taking his usual place at the table.

            Maki had been less observant than Akutabe, and continued talking—shoes, Sakuma thought, but then the topic changed to future goals and dreams. Sakuma kept the beer close, lest Akutabe get any rude ideas and take it from her—down it himself, she was sure, or give it to Maki or Yumi. Or someone at another table. All thoughts of her vow about being a responsible adult were forgotten, and she indulged in alcoholic relief, knowing that her limitations would be exceeded after this beer. She'd make do; she was amongst friends. If all else failed, she'd take a cab home. She could afford that much, at least.

            Maybe.

            “I have to go use the bathroom,” Yumi confessed and stood.

            “Yeah, me too.” Kei grinned. “I'll accompany you to the hall.”

            Seiichi chuckled, as though he knew whatever big secret the two were keeping, and didn't want to share. That was fine by Sakuma, who had a clear idea of what that secret was. Kei took Yumi by the hand and brusquely led her away. They disappeared into the sea of customers next to the bar and Sakuma doubted she would see them again for a long period of time.

            “So what is it that you do, Sakuma-san?” Seiichi asked, lifting his mug into the air. “I think I started to ask you earlier, but never got an answer.”

            “Oh.” Sakuma smiled, but found that it was wider than needed. The alcohol tingled her cheeks and nose. Her head felt light. “I go to Saseda University. I'm in my second year of law.”

            “Law, huh?” He nodded and gestured to Akutabe, whose attention had gone back to Maki. Maki's topic of conversation had migrated to animals. Seiichi added, “Guess that it makes sense you'd work at a detective agency then.”

            “Yeah.” She stifled a burp and said, “But it's not really what I want to do. I'm thinking of interning down at the courthouse.”

            Maybe it was just her imagination, but she could've sworn Akutabe's eyes darted in her direction, but went back to Maki just as quick.

            “Interning would be a great first step for you,” Seiichi said. “Are you planning on becoming a lawyer then? Maybe a judge?”

            “Maybe a lawyer.” She looked around the table for rice crackers, but the bowl in front of Akutabe was the only one with any left. 

            Disregarding all hesitation, she swooped across the table with beer in hand, seized the entire bowl, and slid it over to her side. She felt some of the beer dribble onto herself, but it was a sacrifice well worth it as she shoved a cracker into her mouth to cleanse her palate. She washed away the salty taste with more beer.

            Akutabe stared at his stolen bowl of crackers, and then at Sakuma. Maki was still talking and oblivious to the situation. Or she just didn't care. She had switched the topic to fashion. It amazed Sakuma how the girl could talk for so long without taking a breath or asking a question, for that matter. Her amazement came to its end when Akutabe leaned across the table to take the bowl back from Sakuma.

            “Oh…should we order more appetizers?” Maki asked.

            “No.” Akutabe held a rice cracker up and then gently bit down on it. Sakuma could hear it crunch under his teeth. “I just wasn't done with these.”

            “I wouldn't mind some more gyoza,” Seiichi confessed. He nodded toward the plate of spring rolls, which Yumi had ordered but didn't touch. They were the last remaining appetizers the group had ordered, besides what was left in Akutabe's cracker bowl. “Not a spring roll fan.”

            “I'll take a couple since Yumi's gone,” Maki said and grabbed two of the three. “Would you like the last one, Akutabe-san?”

            “No, thanks.”

            Maki turned to Sakuma. “How about you?”

            Sakuma lifted the beer to her lips and took a giant gulp. She took another one and shook her head.

            Seiichi stood and stretched. “Well then, I hope no one minds that I go out to smoke and I'll order some more gyoza. Any other orders while I'm up?”

            “I'll be fine after this,” Maki said, spring roll in each hand.

            Seiichi nodded and looked at Sakuma, “You want anything? It's on me.”

            “I'm okay,” she said and gestured to the beer. “Thank you for this.”

            Akutabe lifted a rice cracker occupied hand and said, “I'll take water.”

            Maki giggled and Seiichi went away. She brought a spring roll to her mouth, but did not eat. She smiled at the demon detective and said, “You don't want to drink with us, Akutabe-san?”

            “I'll pass tonight,” he said and plopped the rest of the rice cracker in his mouth.

            Maki ate one of the spring rolls, and swallowed before saying, “I don't normally drink like this, unless I'm with friends, of course. I'm pretty diligent with my work and studies, so I don't have time to do this everyday. I mean, I don't even have a boyfriend cuz' I wanna do a lot of stuff that I can only do as a student, like travel and get a good job, so I've put love on the back burner for a while.” She went in for the other spring roll, but not before saying, “I'm a really busy person. It seems that you are too, huh, Akutabe-san?”

            “Extremely.”

            Sakuma kept her mug close to her lips and observed her boss. He appeared less enthused than when he had first arrived and she wondered if he was reaching the end of his patience with the mixer. She had never known him to be a very sociable person, even before she found out about his abilities as a demon summoner. She remembered how she felt the first day she turned her resume into him. She had been desperate for work, feeling the weight of bills, rent, and school tuition weighing down on her. It was one of the downsides of living off-campus, but she wasn't fond of roommates.

            She had heard about the agency from a friend, and didn't have much hope when she turned in her resume. There had been an assistant before her, but Sakuma wasn't sure if she had quit or if he had fired her. Her boss never talked about it, even to this day. Sakuma had always prided herself on her determination, and knew that this Detective Akutabe was probably nothing more than a grouchy old man who didn't like to be bothered much.

            Imagine her surprise when she met the _real_ Akutabe in full regalia: young, handsome, and incredibly intelligent. He seemed put-off at first when she introduced herself. She remembered feeling intimidated, stumbling over her words as she explained why the agency was a good fit for her. When she left, she was certain she would never be back, but Akutabe called her later that afternoon.

            “You start work tomorrow,” he said and hung up.

            No hello, no goodbye, no how-are-you? or anything like that. Just those four words and _click._

            Not much had changed in all of the time she and Akutabe worked together, but she did seem to notice that he never scolded her or treated her with the same contempt that he did the demons. He had mentored her well in the field of demon summoning, and bailed her out of trouble more often than he should've.

            Even now, as she sat across from him at a mixer that still held no purpose for his being there, she could only see her crabby boss, decked out in a black suit, chewing on rice crackers to keep himself entertained through all of Maki's ramblings. If Sakuma hadn't known him better, she wouldn't have recognized how annoyed he was because his dead stare would've been a winner if they were playing poker. She chuckled into her mug before taking a swig. It was his own damn fault for getting Maki started and letting her go on and on.

            But then he smiled when Maki mentioned traveling, and said, “I travel a lot. If you're looking to get to France, you should come along with me some time.”

            Sakuma choked on the beer and held herself as she tried to contain her coughing fit. Maki took the mug from her hands and pounded on Sakuma's back, all the while of crying out, “Are you okay, Sakuma-san? Are you okay? Did you choke?”

            Hot tears spilled over Sakuma's warm face and she imagined herself turning red. She coughed into the crook of her arm and glanced up with hazy vision. Two more tears rolled down her cheeks as a concerned Maki came into view and handed her a cloth napkin. Akutabe stared at her with a smirk and continued eating rice crackers.

            “I'm fine,” Sakuma cracked out and wobbled as she stood. “I think I'm going to run to the bathroom for a minute.”

            “Do you want me to come with you?” Maki asked, standing alongside her with a comforting arm around her shoulders.

            “No, no,” Sakuma shook her head. “I'll be okay. Sorry, I choked on the beer.”

            “Don't drink so fast next time,” Akutabe said, his eyes on the table.

            Sakuma glared at him and then patted Maki's hand. Her head was light and foggy and, for the first time, realized that the alcohol had finally caught up to her. It was like wading through a heavy tide of water, and Sakuma reached for every partition, table, and standing beam. She bumped into several patrons, mumbled apologies, and wondered how it could be so difficult to get from her table to the bathroom, when it was only on the other side of the pub. She hadn't had this much difficulty going outside when it had just been her and Akutabe.

            She swayed when she entered the dark hallway, the restrooms located across from each other. There were a couple of groups lingering in the hall, one a small cluster of girls, and the other a man and woman. The man and woman sounded as though they were in a heated debate, but managed to keep their voices low and contained. The girls, on the other hand, were gossiping about someone named Haru and how he had passed out drunk in his cucumber salad.

            Sakuma wiped her face with the back of her sleeve and used the wall to help guide her down the hallway. The corridor stretched beyond the bathrooms and a low, glow from some constellation revealed dancing shadows around the corner. The cleaning closet was most likely down there, but so were two bodies, pushed up against each other. Sakuma paused and cocked her head to the side. She recalled the familiar baby blue one-piece dress, the fake flower on a headband, the burgundy vest, and the glint of a silver ear cuff. She edged closer, eyes on Kei's hand as it slid into the slit of Yumi's dress, right below her navel.

            Yumi gasped as his lips brushed over hers, down her cheek, down her neck, and bit down. A noise rumbled from the back of her throat as her nails raked through Kei's dyed hair, and he pulled up on her dress.

            Sakuma whirled and staggered back the way she had come. Even though the alcohol had clouded her senses, she couldn't stop the blush from crossing cheek to cheek. She tried not to allow herself to imagine where things were going between them, how his kisses and caresses felt on her skin, how his name escaped her lips like a natural breath.

            Sakuma moved toward the end of the hallway, pushing the image from her mind. But what replaced Kei and her friend was a distorted idea of her boss and Maki, locked in the same kind of embrace, rough kisses, groping in the dark as he felt his way under her shirt and she worked at his belt. If they traveled to France together, as he had offered, how would he take her, then? In the back of the airplane? Under the Eiffel Tower? Right outside of their hotel room because their passion couldn't wait to be satiated until they were inside?

            She stopped in place and slumped against the wall. For some reason, the very thought of that chained her to the floor. It unnerved her to think that she would be at her computer while Akutabe and Maki were in the back of the agency, doing things that she refused to allow her mind to imagine. She had never known her boss to be that kind of person, but she would have never imagined him to show up to a mixer of all places, either.

            She swallowed and rubbed her throat with her hand. It still burned from where she had choked, only now realizing that she wanted nothing more than water. But fear settled into her that when she walked back onto the pub floor, she would see a scene similar to that of Kei and Yumi. Her chest hurt, and her hand moved from her neck to the place where her heart lay. It pulsated under her fingers, and she rubbed the spot in between her breasts.

            Drawing in a deep breath, Sakuma eased herself out from the hallway and looked left. Akutabe remained where he always had been, Maki diagonal of him, mouth moving in an obvious one-sided conversation. Sakuma exhaled and the pain in her chest faded. Padding across the floor, she stopped next to Akutabe, who held a glass of water in his hand, but Seiichi was nowhere in sight. Nor was the extra plate of gyoza that had been promised.

            “Did Seiichi-san come back?” Sakuma asked, causing Maki to pause mid-word, and settled herself back at the table.

            Akutabe shook his head. “He probably got caught up outside, so I went to get water myself.” He stared at her, and she found that she couldn't look at him. “Your face is red.”

            “You feeling okay, Sakuma-san?” Maki asked, nudging her shoulder with her own.

            “Y-Yeah.” Sakuma stared at the half-empty mug of beer and wished it would change into water. She watched Akutabe drink from his glass and found herself envious. If she wanted water, she'd have to struggle to make the trip to the bar herself. She doubted that she was up to the task, and doubted even more that Akutabe would give her his water or get one for her. Maki, on the other hand, might, but Sakuma didn't want to ask her, either. “My throat's a bit dry, though.”

            Her fingers fidgeted and she seized the hem of her vest to stay concentrated. Between the effects of the alcohol, catching Kei and Yumi in their make-out act, and feeling uncomfortable between Akutabe and Maki, she found that she was ready to call it a night and stumble home, if necessary. That thought didn't strike her as attractive. Maybe she could ask Maki to call her a cab.

            The mixer had been a disaster after all, and Sakuma chided herself for not working late at the agency.

            _This is what you get. Now Yumi's got herself a boyfriend, and it looks like Maki does, too._

            She could've made extra money to pay off her debt, had some greasy pizza, listen to Azazel and Beelzebub fight all night long, and Akutabe scream at them.

            Instead, she inattentively set her boss up with one of her friends, after all.

            She flinched as the sound of something heavy being set down hit her ears. She forced herself to focus as Akutabe pulled back from across the table, his glass of water settled next to Sakuma's beer. She stared at it as though it were a foreign object, and then allowed her eyes to wander up to meet his. His eyes were dead, as they often were, and his lips were pressed into a thin line.

            “Aw, isn't that nice of him, Sakuma-san?” Maki leaned in and asked. “Your boss is very considerate.”

            Sakuma wanted to refuse the water—push it back to him and tell him that the water would just be added onto her debt for good measure, but when her fingers curled around the glass, she gulped down the liquid as though someone would steal it from her.

            “I got it for you, mostly,” Akutabe said. “You were beginning to look pretty bad.”

            Sakuma stopped in mid-drink and stared at her boss from over the top of the glass. One side of his lips tugged up into a smirk, the closest to a genuine smile he ever gave. She slowly brought the drink back to the table and stared at it.

            “You're very observant, Akutabe-san,” Maki said and giggled. “You know exactly what a woman needs.”

            But Sakuma wondered.

 

\/\/\/

 

            Not long after, Seiichi returned from outside and Kei and Yumi returned to the table, hair wild and clothes askew. Maki pointed to the shifted slit in Yumi's dress, which exposed more of one breast than it should've. Seiichi poked fun at his friend, and Kei asked if everyone wanted to settle up and head out.

            It took Sakuma longer than the rest to make it to the front of the pub, and she heard Seiichi offer to pay for his and Sakuma's drinks.

            Akutabe shook his head and she almost didn't catch him say, “Thanks, but I got it.”

            Out on the sidewalk, Kei had his arm around Yumi's shoulders and hers around his waist. Seiichi stood in between Sakuma and Maki, his eyes shifting between the two girls. Akutabe emerged last, and adjusted the lapels on his coat.

            “What do you say we hit up another bar downtown?” Kei suggested and he looked down at Yumi.

            “I'd be down,” Seiichi said.

            “Oh, yes!” Maki turned to Akutabe. “How about you, Akutabe-san? You want to come along?”

            “I'm afraid I'll have to pass,” he said and shoved his hands into his pockets. “I've got to be at the office early tomorrow.”

            “Sure,” Kei said. “I hear you. And I'll be down there tomorrow morning to talk about the case.” He smiled and patted his jacket pocket. “Thanks for the business card.”

            Akutabe nodded. “Of course. Until tomorrow.”

            Seiichi's attention shifted to Sakuma. “How about you, Sakuma-san? What do you say to coming down for another round of drinks? On me, of course.”

            Sakuma found the notion cute, and couldn't deny that she was flattered, but the alcohol headache had kicked in, and sleep sounded like more of a plan than more beer.

            She shook her head and said, “I really appreciate it, Seiichi-san, but I have to be at the agency early tomorrow, too.”

            “You both are so dedicated.” He flashed her a grin. “Maybe I'll see you around, then? I could stop by to see you sometime, too.”

            “That sounds nice,” she said, but sleep sounded nicer.

            Kei and Yumi bid the two goodnight, and Seiichi gave Sakuma a small hug while Maki offered Akutabe a tiny, white strip of paper.

            “I had a lot of fun tonight,” she said with a wink. “Call me sometime, okay? Or I could come by your office. I'd love to see where you and Sakuma-san work.”

            He said nothing and she left with Seiichi. Sakuma's eyes fell on the paper in Akutabe's hand and watched how he rolled it in between his finger and thumb until it transformed into a small, lopsided ball. He pivoted on his foot and walked the other way. Sakuma inhaled and tried to follow behind, but her steps wobbled and she staggered to the side.

            Akutabe lifted his hand and the small ball soared from his fingers and landed somewhere out in the street. Sakuma stumbled and balanced herself against a lamppost, her eyes in the direction of where the white ball had gone.

            “Why'd you do that?” she asked.

            “Do what?”

            She hugged the lamppost with one hand and pointed toward the street with the other. “Throw Maki's number away. Why?”

            Akutabe stood a short distance from her, hands shoved so deep into his pockets that she could almost make out the shapes of his fingernails. For the first time that night, Sakuma recognized a weariness in his eyes. It couldn't have been that late, but she hadn't bothered to check her phone all night. 

            He walked up to her and, when he was only a few inches away, asked, “Can you not walk?”

            Sakuma paused and deliberated about telling him the truth. It wasn't as though he had ever seen her this way before, but she doubted that it was possible she could make it home by herself. Her finances for a cab weren't much, and she didn't want to ask him to pay.

            She really didn't want him to do much of anything—not that he would. No, she _did_ want him to do something, but every request had its own separate price tag. Whatever the price, she didn't want to pay. Her debt was already in the tens of thousands of yen.

            Impatience settled into his face the longer she took to answer. She chewed on the inside of her cheek, lowered her eyes, and mumbled, “No.”

            Akutabe glanced left, sighed, and then looked back to her. 

            “Give me your hand,” he said, but took it himself when she appeared too slow. He turned his back to her and pulled her arm over his shoulder. 

            The front of her body collided into him, causing an “Oomph!” to escape from deep in her throat. It was muffled into the fabric of his coat, and he grabbed her other arm to throw over his shoulder. Akutabe bent down at the knees and Sakuma felt hands grip the bottom of her thighs. Before she could register what was happening, he lifted her up from the ground in a piggyback, and adjusted his weight to hers.

            She shrieked and clawed at the front of his coat. “Akutabe-san!”

            He strode down the sidewalk through her complaints and protests, carrying her as though she weighed nothing at all. Her chest fluttered the same way it had in the bathroom hallway, and she wondered if he could hear or feel it. Her face was red, she knew it, and, at the very least, he couldn't see that.

            When she reached the conclusion that he would not put her down, and she rather liked not having to walk, she fell against him as deadweight, and watched the world around her. They passed others on the sidewalk coming in their direction, and she tried not to notice their stares or sniggers, or smiles. He gave a short pause at the end of the block, turned right, and continued along the sidewalk.

            She propped her head on his shoulder and mumbled into his ear, “Don't you think that this is a bit unnecessary?”

            “Yes. You shouldn't have drank so much.”

            Her fingers tightened around the lapels of his coat. “Everyone is staring.”

            “I can make it to the agency,” he said. “After that, you're on your own.”

            The agency? Was it really that close to where they were? Sakuma had never been to The Little Dipper before, and had come there straight from her apartment. If she thought about it that way…yes, then the agency was only a few blocks from here. She was surprised she hadn't realized it sooner, but her thoughts had been jumbled that entire day. No matter what, she blamed Azazel for his stupid, big mouth, and for leading Akutabe straight to her mixer.

            Her mind reeled to the prospect of what things would've been like had her boss never come. It was possible that Seiichi would be carrying her this way to the next bar. He would be buying her drinks all night long—maybe she'd be okay with it. It was against her morals to refuse alcohol. He was just as cute as Kei, could style hair, play drums like no one's business—forget the fact that she had never heard him play before—and smoked a pack a day. Well, she didn't know that, either. Sakuma was a virgin, not stupid. Even with Akutabe there, she could've had Seiichi. He was into her, after all. Of course, thinking about it now, it would've been harder if her boss hadn't come, since Maki had initially been intent on seducing the drummer.

            Sakuma giggled. Maki was something else.

            She couldn't quite explain it, but she would rather it had gone this way, with her boss carrying her back to the agency, struggling and sweating—no, he wasn't doing either of those things. Didn't this guy ever get exhausted or drained? Didn't he ever have trouble doing something on his own? If he did, she never saw it. More than likely, he'd add the act of being a personal taxi service to her ever-growing debt. She was glad it was her and not Maki. Even if it made her seem fickle, Sakuma wanted to be the one on Akutabe's back. No one else.

            Did she really just have that strange thought? Shame on her. No, she didn't care. Shame or not, she didn't care.

            Defeated and tired, she relaxed against him and tried not to think about the position of his hands. For the first time that night, she thanked herself for not wearing a dress.

            “So,” she drew the word out. “Why'd you throw away her number?”

            “Hmm?”

            “Maki's number.”

            He took them to a quiet backstreet that she wasn't familiar with. The sidewalk ascended up high and Sakuma peeked up toward the top of the hill. She felt slightly bad that Akutabe was about to hike them both up to the top.

            Only _slightly._

            “Oh,” he said. “I lost interest.” 

            He marched them up the hill. She stared at him from out of the corner of her eye, but his face remained stoic. He never broke a sweat and he never lost his breath. No, it seemed that this guy never lost his composure, after all, even if it meant having to carry her weight up a steep sidewalk. 

            “Lost interest?” she asked when they were halfway up the hill. 

            Buildings crammed together on each side of the empty street. She saw a few figures in windows, and a couple talking in a car, but the street lacked the normal hustle and bustle of the main roads. There were some parked cars and a few light posts, and all that Sakuma could hear was her voice and the soft inhale and exhale of Akutabe's breath through his nose.

            “Yeah.”

            She couldn't stifle her chortle and inadvertently tightened her grip around his neck. He grunted and stopped to adjust their weight. She loosened her arms and let them dangle over the front of his chest.

            “I thought you said that my friends were cute,” she murmured into his shoulder and he walked on. Her dangling feet tapped against his hips as he made long strides up the hill.

            “I changed my mind.”

            The smile appeared on her face before she knew it was there. She loved her friends dearly, but something inside made her happy to know that Maki would not have the personal status with Akutabe that she had been hoping for. By tomorrow, she would be reduced to a mere stranger if Sakuma knew him at all.

            And she was pretty sure that she did.

            “So, what happened with pulling a late night on that case for Mr. Hotshot?” she asked when they crested the top of the hill. “You don't really have it covered, do you?”

            A small dip lay before them. Akutabe would have to descend in order to keep going. She wondered if she should get down to keep him from becoming top-heavy, but he walked fast, and seemed to be having no trouble. Nervousness settled into her at the thought of him taking a nasty tumble and rolling down the street, but he kept his back straight and managed to hold himself upright. Sakuma found herself impressed with his strength and endurance. The nervousness faded and a part of her wanted to seem him falter, or trip and fall, even if she got hurt in the process. She wanted something to prove his human flaws.

            She wished she knew how far the agency was from here.

            It took a moment, but Akutabe eventually said, “Ah, he called and extended the deadline. I told him that patience is key and that he couldn't possibly expect good results off of a time frame like that.”

            _Sure._ Sakuma rolled her eyes and perched her head on his shoulder again. His steps stiffened and slowed as he crossed the street. They were still on a descending hill, and she wondered if his change of pace was meant to keep them from tumbling forward. Finally, a show of weakness. Well…maybe. _There probably was no deadline. Akutabe-san just wanted to have company while he worked late._

            “It also looks like I was correct in my thinking,” he went on.

            “Hmm?” She arched an eyebrow. “What's that?”

            “Mixers are ridiculous.”

            Sakuma chuckled and released the hold on his jacket. Being carried like this grew on her, and she found her body comfortable and risked being lulled to sleep. She could understand why infants enjoyed being carried, and driven around in cars.

            She slurred out, “I still don't get why you came, then. You looked bored the whole time.”

            Akutabe stopped at the end of the block, glanced both ways, and crossed the quiet street. He walked further and then turned left at the next block. There still weren't as many people down the back roads as there had been on the main strip. It couldn't be that late; Tokyo wasn't a place that slept. Akutabe knew his way around the backstreets, but that wasn't anything unusual. He was a detective and could make a hole out of anything and hide there. She knew that she would have to learn to do the same if she was going to stay working as his assistant, no matter how much longer that would be. Interning at the courthouse didn't hold the same appeal now that it had earlier. Maybe she'd stay around the agency a little while longer.

            “On the contrary, I enjoyed the experience,” he said. “I doubt Kei-san will show up tomorrow, though.”

            “You never know, he might.”

            “Seiichi-san may come looking for you, too.”

            Sakuma's head tilted and her cheek pressed up against his. “I don't think so. By the end of the night, he and Maki-chan might end up together.”

            “You're okay with that?”

            Sakuma stared at the street ahead. It was dark, and she wasn't sure where they were, but had complete faith that Akutabe did.

            “You're okay with losing Maki-chan to someone else?” she asked. Her lips brushed against his ear as she deadpanned, “Not going to take her to France, after all? Can I have her ticket then?”

            “Sure, for three million yen.”

            Sakuma rolled her eyes and said nothing more. She found that it was a struggle to keep her eyes open by the time Akutabe shifted her weight on his back to fish in his pocket for the keys. With some kind of great skill did he manage to open the door without having to put her down. He kicked it closed and proceeded to climb several flights of stairs to their office. He replicated that same great skill in shoving the key into the door, wiggling it a bit, and pushing it open with his hip. He swiveled once inside and kicked that door closed, too.

            The glow of the city lights cast a soft beam through the large window leading out into the street. Akutabe crossed the room, stopped at one of the large couches, and gently deposited Sakuma onto it. She bounced into the cushion. He turned away from her, pulled off his coat, and tossed it onto the desk. Akutabe left her there and went into their small kitchen. A moment later, Sakuma heard the sound of running water and a cabinet door opening.

            She looked around the dark room, her eyesight adjusting to the low light. She still had no idea what time it was, but felt tired all the same. It wasn't unusual for the agency to double as a hotel room. There were many times she had come in the morning to find her boss asleep on the couch from pulling an all-nighter. It was commendable, really, but now she realized that she was in a position to do the same.

            She actually didn't _mind_ doing the same, but, for some reason, didn't want to spend the night there alone. It wasn't as though the demons could come up and harass her, but the notion left her unsettled. She sat properly on the couch; if she laid down now, she knew she would surely fall asleep, and she wasn't ready to do that, yet.

            Akutabe emerged back into the room and Sakuma recognized the shape of cups in each of his hands. He held one out to her and said, “Here.”

            She took it from him, but asked, “What is it?”

            “Water. I suspect you'll be needing it.”

            Upon his mentioning it did she realize that her head pulsated and throbbed. Aspirin would've been nice, too, but she decided not to ask him to get her some. Sleep would be just as good an alternative until morning. He stepped back and brought his cup to his lips. She heard the soft sound of his gulps, the water moving around in the cup, and the contented sigh he made when he finished. Akutabe waited as she drank her water, and took the cup when she emptied it.

            “So…” he began and walked back into the kitchen. “I'm not going to tell you what to do, but I think you should consider spending the night here.”

            She pushed her lips together and sank into the couch. The idea grew more and more inviting in her mind, the couch soft and comfortable as a bed could be, her eyelids heavy as the alcohol settled into her bloodstream.

            “Are you going home?” she asked, head tilting back when she heard footsteps come up from behind.

            The silhouette of Akutabe's head appeared overhead, and he looked down at her.

            “Why does that matter?” he asked. She shrugged, though she wasn't sure if he could see it, and he said, “Carrying you was harder than it looked. I'm not sure I'm in the mood to continue the trek home.”

            He walked around the couch and sat opposite of her. The only thing between them was the old coffee table Koutarou insisted on bringing in from some swap meet. It was old and ugly, and Sakuma had no idea why Akutabe let him keep it.

            “You didn't have to, you know,” she mumbled and stared at the ugly coffee table. “I could've walked myself.”

            “Don't be ridiculous.” She heard him lean into the couch. “All of your friends know you work at my agency. If you passed out on the side of the road and someone recognized you, you'd only make my agency look bad.” She opened her mouth to retort something awful, but he stopped her with a chuckle and added, “You're my cute assistant. I have to lend a hand when she's in trouble.”

            Chills fed up the back of Sakuma's legs and arms. She had never heard him speak that way to her before, and the alcohol told her not to think too hard on it. Then he stood, walked around the coffee table, and dropped down next to her. The sudden weight made her bounce on the cushion and she jolted her attention to him. She tried not to think about the fact that they were shoulder-to-shoulder, her hip and knee against his.

            “Uh, Akutabe-san?”

            “Hmm?”

            She knew better than to ask the next thing that came to mind, but the alcohol said that it was all right, and before logic could interfere, blurted out, “This is my couch. Can you sleep on the other one?”

            He chuckled again. “Actually, this is _my_ couch, Sakuma-san. And so is the other one. _This_ one just happens to be the one I want to sleep on.”

            She rolled her eyes and prepared to stand. “Fine, I'll take the other one.”

            He seized her arm and yanked her down. She crashed into his lap and he swung his legs up onto the couch. Akutabe held her on top of him, stomach against stomach, his hand settled into the small of her back while the other propped up his head.

            The alcohol told her that, despite everything else it had said before, this was definitely _not_ okay, and most likely an infraction of employer-employee work regulations. She held herself still, feeling her hipbone grinding into his, knowing how very uncomfortable their positioning felt on her body, more so than how wrong it probably was.

            She stared down at him, his face faintly highlighted by the outside light, and realized she had never been so close—not in a situation like this. Riding piggyback was one thing. Being like this, body pressed against body, frightened her. Sakuma pushed up on her arms, but his hand kept firm on her back. Her nose was only a sliver of an inch apart from his. The warmth on her cheeks was not alcohol induced, this much she was sure of. 

            The alcohol, itself, had no advice to give her in this situation, except that it was nearing sleep time, but Sakuma was not that far removed from reality.

            She jerked back harder, but he was much stronger.

            “What the _hell_ do you think you're doing?” she cried out and thrashed against him.

            All the while, his soft laughs were laced with a twisted amusement, as though this were some kind of game, and dropped her to the side so that she was pinned between him and the back couch pillows. He rolled onto his side and held her there. 

            “I thought we could both share this couch,” he said after a moment. The hot air of his breath nuzzled her jawline and neck. “In my opinion, this is the more comfortable of the two.”

            Sakuma struggled against him and he tightened his grip on her back.

            “Relax,” he said, his voice much sterner. “I'm not going to try anything. I wouldn't do that to someone who's been drinking.”

            Her mind wandered to the meaning of that sentence.

            _He's just screwing with me because I've been drinking. I'm not as far gone as he thinks. I'll remember this in the morning and make him pay._

            “That's hard to believe,” she snapped, her words absorbed into his shirt. It smelled of cologne.

            She had never smelled that cologne before. It was musky and thick, and reminded her of the department store in the shopping arcade across town that she enjoyed. It was also like the thick fabric of a suit, the plastic of computers and copiers in an office building, the rocky edge that met the pond in a man-made park. No smell in particular, but she kind of liked it.

            No, she didn't.

            Ohhh, she couldn't lie. She wanted to ask him the name of his cologne. How had she not smelled it while he carried her? Surely, she wasn't that drunk.

            No, the alcohol told her. She was definitely drunk. If she couldn't remember cologne and where the agency was in relation to The Big Dipper, then she had to be drunk.

            She didn't feel drunk.

            The collar of his shirt had been pulled open in their short struggle and she found herself faced with the muscles in his neck, his prominent Adam's apple, and his defined collarbone. She couldn't stop the shaking in her body, nor did she know where it had come from. She could feel her heart hammering against her ribcage. It pulsated across her body and embarrassed her to think that he might hear it. If he did, he didn't say.

            Akutabe leaned his head back, arm still perched behind his ear. “I'll save that for when you're sober,” he mumbled, but she heard him anyway.

            Save what?

            She growled and struggled against him, but had much less of an ability to move with the couch pillows pressed up behind her.

            “I take back what I said earlier,” he continued, the energy in his voice waning. It appeared he was drifting off to sleep. “Mixers aren't all that ridiculous after all.” His fingers danced along her back for a few moments before coming to a rest and he shifted his body with a contented sigh.

            Her body trembled against his, but she had no room to scoot away. Her chest burned, and she tried to adjust her arm so that it wasn't positioned directly on his hip. His elbow held it in place, however, and she ground her teeth together.

            She loved the smell of his cologne.

            She was here instead of Maki. And that was okay.

            No, it wasn't.

            No, it really was.

            “I'm putting this on your debt,” she mumbled to him, because it was something he'd tell her. She was drunk, but not, and thought it to be a very, very funny thing to say. Too bad he didn't reply. “Maki-chan would be furious if she knew you substituted me for her.”

            She didn't know why she had said that, but knew it to be true, and that made her happy. Sakuma couldn't be sure, but she thought she saw him smile.

            Either way, she found that comfort was something of a lost commodity now, and she wasn't sure if it was more from her positioning or situation that she felt that way. The alcohol assured her that she had drank too much after all, and that, for mental health's sake, to give it up and figure things out in the morning. 

            By then, she would learn that Azazel spilled the beans on everything, because he was eavesdropping, even though Sakuma had scolded him about it before. She would learn that, apparently, Yumi talked quite loudly when she was excited or mad, which was how Azazel learned about The Big Dipper, where Kei and Yumi worked, and what time the mixer started. She would learn that it was Akutabe who had put Azazel up to cursing Jiro with lust. This had caused Jiro to drive through the construction site because a hot woman was at the curb, pulling up her boot. This allowed Azazel to  jam the jackhammer in the tire, causing the flat. She would also learn that Kei's ' déjà vu' regarding the mixer had actually been the work of Koutarou, Gusion, and Beelzebub. Between the fly demon and Gusion, Koutarou could ask anything he wanted and no one would remember. She would also learn that the strange feeling she had before entering the pub that night had come from Akutabe, who hid himself in the crowd on the street corner as he took cues from the demons and Koutarou. She would learn all of these things, grow angry and rage at her boss and the stupid demons who had helped him, but never solve the most important mystery of all: why Akutabe had decided to come in the first place.

            These realizations would have to come for tomorrow, however, and Sakuma's fluttering eyes finally closed and she curled up against the warm body beside her and reminded herself to ask all of these questions when she awoke. 

            For now, it was time for sleep.

 

**\/\/\/**

 

Soooo…yeah. That was my weird idea. The concept seemed silly enough and, again, in reference to volume 10, seemed like something Sakuma's friends would do. The whole time I was reading it, I was like, 'Yeah, Nanishikori. You got nothing on Akutabe. He even has a bitching theme song.' And the power of manipulation, of course. Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed it, and if not, please don't flame me. Comments and critiques make for better conversation.

 

ML

  



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